Fate
by Friendly Voices
Summary: "'Listen, Ray, could you consider not telling Dad what we just did' He focused his bleary eyes at her and nodded. There was no way he would ever willingly confess to Sam how he had met his little girl. 'I don't have suicidal thoughts, thanks.'" A chance meeting between Red and Lizzie changed everything, but Red liked to think that it was fate. Second part up. AU.
1. Meeting Lizzie 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

 **Meeting Lizzie 1**

Red Reddington's head was pounding when he picked up the phone and growled irritably, "Yeah?"

"Ray? Is that finally you?" He blinked, trying and failing to recognize the voice on the other side. No one called him that these days; the man named Raymond was dead for more than a decade, Red had killed him himself. Blinking again, he rolled over to his back and stared at the ceiling. "Who's that?"

"Nice, buddy! It took me half an hour to reach you after dialling the number you left me for 'emergencies', and now you have the balls to tell me you don't even know who the fuck is calling you?"

Red shut his eyes. The curtains were blissfully drawn, but there was a single annoyingly persistent ray of sunlight streaming in through a small gap between them. It hurt, but it made him remember – and remembering that voice hurt even more, the pain bringing clarity to his befuddled mind.

He sat up abruptly, his heart racing.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I hoped you wouldn't need to call me. Are you safe? Is…" Red could bring himself to say her name. "Is she safe? Where are you?"

"We are ok, for the time being."

"Right, so what's the matter?" He suppressed the urge to vomit and gazed at his feet, willing the panic to abate. They were safe, she was safe. He repeated it like a mantra. She was safe.

Red's life was so messed up, he was so messed up, and the only thing keeping him sane, the only thing making his existence a little more bearable was that tiny little girl he had saved fourteen years ago.

"I need you to come here. Someone needs to look after Liz for a few nights." Sam sounded weary and Red's heart missed a beat when he heard her name. Liz. Lizzie. He didn't allow his mind to wander, he didn't allow himself to think about her often. She was the sole reason why he had adapted and thrived in the murky dark waters of the criminal world.

His thirst for revenge had fuelled him for years, but when Red had found himself shot and slowly bleeding to death, it hadn't been revenge what had kept him alive. It had been the innocent child who had been caught in the middle of this mess, the child who would always be in danger as long as his enemies would live. Red didn't have any other option but to destroy them before they managed to destroy her.

"Look after her? I'm not a fucking babysitter." He said harshly, his mind shied away from her as if burnt.

Red wasn't a good man and he knew that – hell, most of the time he hated what he had become. He hadn't handled his criminal status well; he had spent years indulging in his darkest desires in order to escape reality at least for a moment, and it had left him emotionally crippled, cold and empty.

He rarely visited his female associates these days; those women were all power-hungry gold-diggers, volatile and self-serving – a danger, really. Drugs clouded his judgment too much for him to use them safely and so his only remaining escape mechanism was his beloved scotch.

No, Red didn't deserve to even think about her, and yet he cherished the thought of the child like a sinner cherished his most reverent prayer.

"Yeah… I… She… She's going through a difficult time right now. Remember when you were eighteen?" Sam chuckled nervously. "To tell a long story short, Liz is officially grounded for the rest of her life."

"Why are you calling me, though? Your sister could help, your neighbors could help." He started to get angry. His proximity was a danger to them and he would rather kill himself than to endanger his only friend and the girl. "I'm quite busy right now, and you don't want the likes of me anywhere near your home."

Sam was silent for a second and Red slowly rose and made his way to the bathroom. He observed his face for a moment and shook his head. His eyes were bloodshot and he hadn't shaved or combed his hair since he had arrived at his private island; he certainly hadn't been sober during his whole stay. No one sane wanted the likes of him anywhere near their homes.

"She's sneaky, Ray." Sam sighed. "God bless my sister, but she can't handle that girl. I can't do that most of the time."

"Since when you can't handle a mouthy teenager?"Red closed his eyes and swallowed. It was tempting – he had been curious about her in those rare moments when he had dared to think about her. She must have grown so much! Red was eager to replace the image of the blue-eyed child with an image of a blue-eyed girl.

"I'm sick, Ray," Sam answered bluntly and then he sighed again. "I need to have some tests run, and then you and I need to talk about the results. I would prefer a face to face chat, buddy."

Red's knees buckled and he crashed down on the bathroom floor, the phone falling from his hand. It was like a punch to his gut, the idea of Sam sick and helpless. He had been Red's oldest friend, the boy who had taught him how to beat the shit out of someone and how to impress girls. He crawled to the toilet and heaved out.

"Ray, are you ok? Ray? Ray! Are you still there?"

After a few more moments, the line went dead. When Red was done, he flushed the toilet and reached for the cell, dialling Sam back and anxiously waiting for his friend to pick up.

"God, Sam… I'm sorry, I'm such an ass!"

"Sure you are. Listen, it could be nothing but it could be serious. We haven't planned for a situation like this and we definitely should. I'm not a young man anymore, and things just happen, Ray."

"Yeah, yeah, we should meet and plan. I'm on my way, see you soon." Red answered meekly and put his forehead against the cool surface of the toilet bowl. He ended the call and closed his eyes. He wasn't ready to face the girl, and he wasn't keen on letting Sam see what he had become, how low he had sunk.

Embracing the toilet bowl, Red threw up again.

* * *

Well, it took me a little longer than I expected, but I hope that we all will have lots of fun with Red and Lizzie on this particular journey. It will be one hell of a ride, so stay tuned and hold on tight! :) Next time: Liz and Red meet... How badly could that end? ;)


	2. Meeting Lizzie 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

 **Meeting Lizzie 2**

Sam looked like shit, pale and drawn and weary. They talked for hours, making plans first and then reminiscing about simpler times. He was a few years older than Red and as kids they had managed to get into so much trouble together that it was unbelievable.

While they talked, neither of them noticed how a certain brunette quickly sneaked out of the kitchen window (Sam locked the doors) and disappeared into the night. When Sam decided it was time for Red to finally see the girl, they were both surprised by the fact that she had been long gone.

"Well, that's exactly what I was talking about. Liz is worse than you and I combined." Sam sighed when they returned back to the kitchen. "She won't come home until dawn, I guess. Another beer?"

Red was secretly relieved that he would not be meeting Lizzie tonight; he had just promised to Sam to end his suffering if such a need would arise, and he was more than uncomfortable with it. He smiled slowly and shook his head; he wanted to escape from Sam's company. He loved his friend dearly, but Red was such a coward that he could not face Sam's tired knowing eyes any longer.

He had noticed how Red had changed, of course. Fine clothes, polished manners, deep circles under his eyes from endless nightmares and false cheer not quite masking the self-deprecating tone in Red's voice were all hard to miss. He hated that Sam was seeing him like he truly was: weak and broken, and that promise certainly hadn't helped. He was going to break should he stay any longer and with a few feeble excuses, he fled. He would come back tomorrow and pretend everything was fine, he would unpack his things in the guest bedroom and he would babysit Lizzie as he promised while Sam would be in the hospital. His security had the week off, he didn't wish to draw any attention to the neighborhood.

But right now, Red needed a drink to take his mind off things.

Two hours later he found himself pleasantly occupied in a seedy little bar not far from Sam's house. He had a whole bottle of scotch all for himself, he was happily listening to rock music and discreetly observing a group of sparsely clad girls laughing at the bar.

Perhaps he hadn't been as discreet as he had thought because they were throwing him suggestive looks and Red grinned at them. It was a well familiar situation and he enjoyed their attention immensely.

It was exactly the distraction he had needed. Lifting his glass, he saluted them and the girls answered with more laughter and smiles. Then he patted the seat next to him and tilted his head to the side, waiting if one of them would be brave enough to approach him. He was seated in a secluded darkened corner and his features weren't much visible. His clothes, on the other hand, screamed money and outlined his muscular build quite nicely for them.

After a minute or so one girl left the group and slowly approached his table. Red appreciated the way she moved, how her hips swayed, and how very little clothes she had. They were very tight-fitting, almost like a second skin. She had long dark hair and a baseball cap she had stolen from another man earlier. He had seen her do it and he had seen how much that man hadn't minded.

"Hello there." Red would give her every article of clothing he had on his person quite willingly, too. She had a beautiful smile and full red lips.

"Hi. I have a little bet with my friends. Would you mind helping me out?" She sat on his lap and Red nodded at her with a broad grin, not complaining at her brazen behavior in the slightest. Before he could say or do anything else, the girl tangled her hands in his hair, shifted her position so she was straddling him and kissed the living daylights out of him.

What a kiss it was!

Red hummed, pleasantly surprised, and cradled her head with one hand gently while his other hand drifted to her waist and slid around the curve of her backside. She bit his lip softly. Red groaned and her tongue slipped inside of his mouth; she tasted like tequila. Then her palm wandered down his chest, her fingers teasing, her fingernails scratching through the thin material of his shirt, and Red growled and both of his arms came around her.

Then, oh, she found his belt buckle and he started. "What are you doing?"

She nipped at his lips playfully and breathed out against his mouth, "I find you very attractive."

After that, she kissed him again and unbuckling his belt, she cupped him. Red's eyes rolled back and his breath hitched when she touched him. For a moment, he was lost in the bizarre sensations of the girl's hands on him, of her tongue inside of his mouth and – oh, of the growing desire it evoked in him. He stopped thinking altogether, he simply _felt_.

Red found himself incredibly, painfully aroused in a matter of seconds. He was panting; harsh, ragged almost agonizing sounds were tearing out of his throat. He wanted her so badly that he thought he would black out from the intensity of it.

It'd been _so_ long since he felt anything like that. Pure desire, no worries, no restrictions, and there was something about the way she was perched on his lap, how she nibbled at his lips and bit his tongue, the confident manner in which she was squeezing and stroking him – just right –, that made Red think that this was his most intense erotic experience ever. She fitted him perfectly. They were in sync, made for each other.

Red broke away, gasping for breath, eager to see her face. Her baseball cap had fallen to the floor and she grinned at him, her impossibly blue eyes wide and sparkling. Red's heart stopped.

He had seen those eyes before – staring at him from a small face smudged with soot, so big, so blue, so vulnerable and innocent…

"Lizzie!" He managed to gasp, firmly clutching her hips and moving her slightly away from his chest.

"Hey, you know me?" She stilled and stared at him wide-eyed, one of her hands still down his pants, the other under his shirt. Then her eyes narrowed and she peered at him, licking her swollen lips. Red held still very much aware of the fact that she continued to cup his erection. He was afraid to move, to be honest because he sure as hell didn't wish for her to stop touching him even though he knew that she most definitely should remove her hands. It was Sam's daughter. It was _Lizzie_. Goddammit, it was Lizzie and Red felt disgusted with himself.

"Wait, wait, wait, I think I caught a glimpse of you at our place. You're Raymond the Babysitter!? Well, fuck!" She slid off him with a lightning speed and grabbed his glass, downing his drink.

Red hastily buckled his belt and reached for the bottle, drinking eagerly the remaining scotch there. He so didn't want to see her walk away from him, those damned hips swaying seductively… Lizzie. He certainly had a different picture of her now!

His vision swam and closing his eyes, he put the empty bottle slowly back on the table, hoping for alcohol poisoning. He didn't know how long he sat there, simply nauseated. He was so, _so_ fucked up. How could he have done that? He had destroyed the only good thing left in his life. He had forbidden himself to think about the child most of the time and now he had stuck his tongue down her throat? It was unbelievable…

"Whoa, someone's gonna puke soon, Ray."

Lizzie hadn't left. She was perched at the edge of the seat across from him and watched him with wry amusement which forcefully reminded him of her mother.

"What the fuck you are doing here, anyway? How did you get in?" He ran his fingers through his hair, a little lost, a little angry. She ignored the questions and Red was too far gone to insist on her answers now. He had a feeling that he would pass out soon. He shouldn't have drunk the rest of the bottle in one go.

"Listen, Ray, could you consider not telling Dad what we just did?"

He focused his bleary eyes at her and nodded. There was no way he would ever willingly confess to Sam how he had met his little girl. "I don't have suicidal thoughts, thanks."

One thing was starting to bother him, though, seriously bother him to the point that he felt his blood boil at the mere thought of it.

"Do you do that often?" He swayed as he stood and took a step towards her. He blinked furiously and reached for her hand, squeezing. "Do you?"

"What?" Lizzie rose from the table and steadied him. Her eyes were full of laughter and she winked. "Kissing strangers? Sometimes. Riding them in public? Only the handsome ones."

Red seriously considered leaning in and biting those smiling lips for a moment until her words registered. "Sometimes? Handsome?"

"Come on, I better get you to bed before you keel over."

Lizzie tugged him towards the door and befuddled Red leaned on her heavily, the world spinning in circles around him. Drinking from the bottle had been a bad, bad idea, indeed. He couldn't focus on anything other than Lizzie now. He had not expected to find her quite like he had and he couldn't get rid of the memory how her mouth had tasted. The worst part was that he didn't want to forget it.

"Do you have any cash? I need to pay for that scotch of yours."

He handed her clumsily some money and waited obediently slumped against the wall near the exit for her. Sam should kill him. Her mother definitely would have – hell, Red himself would kill anyone who dared to touch Lizzie like that… But she knew what she was doing. Lizzie had very capable hands…

When she reappeared, he smiled drunkenly and swayed towards her. It would seem that their roles reversed – Lizzie would need to be the one to save him tonight.

"Some babysitter you are, Ray."

Red didn't answer and flung his arm around her. Lizzie guided him outside and he felt the pleasant tingling warmth spreading all over his body from the simple touch. Sam should kill him; Sam certainly would kill him as soon as he saw Lizzie's lipstick smeared all over Red's face.

He stumbled at that thought and Lizzie barely managed to stop him from falling face first on the ground and growled unhappily. Red was heavy, he knew, and he smiled apologetically at her.

"You are an excellent kisser, missy."

"So are you." Oh, she smiled. She must like him. What had she said? She found him attractive. He would definitely never forget that part.

"I'd like to kiss you more, but I don't think it's a good idea. Lizzie? Would you mind?" There already was a running price on his head. He could die kissing her, Sam would make it quick.

"Mind what?"

"Another kiss…"

She stopped then and turned to look at him. Then she laughed and pecked his cheek instead of answering. He took it as a no, but not a definite no. Perhaps he could ask again in the morning.

Yes, please. He would ask in the morning because there was only one thing absolutely clear to him in his inebriated state; he needed to kiss Lizzie again.

* * *

Oh, my! :D Next time: the morning after...


	3. Meeting Lizzie 3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

 **Meeting Lizzie 3**

When the morning came, Red almost managed to convince himself that it had been only a dream and that it would exceptionally stupid idea to initiate anything remotely resembling a kiss with Lizzie. He was not going to mention it and he was never going to think about repeating it. She was young enough to be his daughter and Red was unworthy of even sharing the same air as her.

Groaning, he buried himself under the covers, wishing for the comfort of his blankets. He felt like shit and thinking in circles about kissing a girl who he had no business to desire was making him sick. God help him, though; Red was unable to stop himself from replaying the scene in his mind again and again and again. She had felt and tasted so good.

Around eleven he rolled from the bed and made his way into the bathroom where he promptly threw up. Wanting Lizzie was wrong and even though that he had done so many bad things in his life, he would not do this, he could not ruin Lizzie.

Someone knocked at the door and he flinched when he heard her voice, "Ray?"

"Yeah?" Red closed his eyes tiredly and refused to look at his reflection in the mirror. He splashed water at his face, brushed his teeth, and flattened his hair. Only after that he turned to the door.

Lizzie was leaning against the doorframe and watched him, clad only in a loose t-shirt. Very provocative, he mused and dragged his eyes back to her face. He smiled pleasantly.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember meeting you, but you must be Lizzie."

"So," her face fell a little, "You, you don't remember the hot monkey sex we had in the garage when I dragged you here?"

"What?! You dropped me right there, Lizzie!" Red spluttered, his face turning an interesting shade of purple and he motioned wildly to the guest bedroom.

"A-ha!" Liz pointed a finger at him and grinned.

He sighed and covered his face. "Why couldn't you just play along, girl? I tried to save us an embarrassing conversation."

"Why embarrassing?" Liz huffed and crossed her arms. "Why would you be embarrassed? I liked you, you liked me and we kissed and felt up each other a little bit. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes! Yes, it is definitely wrong, my dear." Red exclaimed loudly. How could she just stand there in front of him, looking like she is ready for a repeated performance? Which was not going to happen, never mind how tempting it was.

"Ok, and what's so wrong?"

"What about the fact that your father will kill me if he ever finds out?" Red asked, annoyed. What that girl wanted, anyway?

"I don't plan on telling my Dad that I was going at it with his friend. That's a little gross… not that I think you are gross or anything, but the thought is… so, it's actually me who should be embarrassed about yesterday… and see? I'm not."

Red gazed at her, completely perplexed.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Lizzie? Please, be precise, I don't think I follow you."

For the first time during their entire conversation, Lizzie looked a little uncomfortable as she shifted weight and shrugged her shoulders.

"Guess I was just trying to make a point. I don't like when people lie to me, you know. Who are you, anyway?"

"Duly noted." Red nodded and stepped towards her. For a moment, he considered pinning her against the nearest wall and by the look in her eyes, she wouldn't have minded, but then he brushed past her into the hall.

"I'm Ray, and I'm going to babysit you for a few days."

"I know that, but I thought I knew all of Dad's friends. You recognized me yesterday, but I'm sure as hell that I never saw you before…"

Red briefly stopped before he resumed his walk downstairs. Lizzie was following him with light steps and he resolutely refused to turn and watch her descend the stairs. He needed coffee and he started to look for it in the kitchen. Lizzie perched herself at the worktop and watched him idly while Red marveled at the shape of her legs.

His perception of her had changed and drastically so; he had replaced the image of a child with a vivid image of a passionate young woman and he was sure that it was a bad perception change. Her presence proved to be absolutely distracting and Red snapped, "Don't you have clothes you could put on?"

"I have, but don't want to dress. Are you bothered or what?"

"Humph."

Red busied himself with munching on his feeble breakfast consisting of a dry toast and mug of hot black coffee. He would eat something later, but right now he had still a little queasy stomach. To his utter dismay, Lizzie still hadn't moved an inch and observed him with bright, mischievous eyes.

"You're one of those less police friendly kinds of friends." She proclaimed finally when he looked at her.

"What?" Red raised his eyebrows at her and sipped his coffee. "How do you figure?"

"Come on, I'm not stupid, Ray. I know all about Dad's little adventures. Guess he doesn't go around telling people that I help him, sometimes."

"You what?" Now Red almost spilled his coffee when he abruptly slammed it on the table and clenched his hands. Sam certainly hadn't shared that little detail. Red had wanted him to protect the girl, not to put her in danger and Sam's past and obviously present thieving adventures certainly put Lizzie at risk. Sam should have told him that they needed money.

"Wow, calm down." Lizzie hopped down and patted his shoulder. "Just kidding. But you look like a criminal, sorry."

"Yes, and you are an expert on it, aren't you?" Red sneered slightly taken aback by the fact that Lizzie could see what he didn't want her to see. It was the hangover probably, and it was the lack of clothing on her part which had caused his mask slipping. One thing was certain, though – he had never expected her to be so… so… He didn't even have words for it. She was just something special.

"You can say that, yeah." They watched each other for a few seconds and Red was slowly getting uncomfortable; her piercing blue eyes were disconcertingly bright and way too knowing. Did he really look like a criminal?

"It's all in the way you move, really." With that, she disappeared from the kitchen and he could hear her moving up the stairs. When she came back, she was dressed in shorts and a tank top, her bright red bra clearly visible under the thin white fabric, and Red almost choked on the reminder of his coffee.

"I'm going to the shop. Do you need something?"

"I'm going with you. There is just no fucking way I'll leave you unsupervised, not even for a second." He didn't give her time to react and shushed her with his forefinger on her mouth, his most dangerous mask firmly in place. "I promised your Dad that I will look after you, and that's exactly what I am going to do for the next few days. Deal with it – and if you try to pull that window stunt again, I'm gonna hunt you down and drag you back home by your pretty hair. Do you understand me?"

For a fleeting second, Red thought that she would bite his finger – the fire in her eyes was reminding him of yesterday's passion –, but then she nodded and stepped away, looking properly chastised. "Yes."

"Good."

He moved away and ignored the look she gave him. She was just a mouthy teenager, a girl who liked to think that she was all grown up – but she wasn't, not yet and Red needed to remember that. Maybe one day he would look at her and see…

He stopped himself from finishing that thought and shook off the feeling which very much resembled a yearning. It was pointless to wish for something that could never happen. She was his ray of light, a rather impertinent ray of light, and he would not think about her in any degrading fashion. After Sam would get back, Red would disappear in the shadows, once again the silent benefactor and protector, and he would be content with the knowledge that Lizzie was safe. He would keep his distance, content with the knowledge that she was safe. It was his life's goal.

Humming, he smiled softly. He knew just the perfect way of protecting the girl from afar; the Major had excellently trained operatives and it looked like Lizzie would need someone to watch her back constantly.

Sighing, Red shook his head. He felt a migraine coming and his heart ached at the thought that he would not see Lizzie turn from a sassy teenager into a fierce, delightful woman.

Then again, Red didn't deserve to be near her anyway.

* * *

Wow. Well. I don't know what to say now; Lizzie didn't want to be eighteen for much longer and this story just wants to be divided in parts of three. The next little trilogy is titled Tom Keen, so stay tuned for another part of Fate! :)


	4. Tom Keen 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

 **Tom Keen 1**

 _(Twelve years later)_

Red was sitting in Lizzie's favorite armchair and wondered where the hell that dog of hers was while he waited for the husband to come home. When he heard the main door opened, he sat up straighter and watched how Keen walked in the living room.

He did a double take and stepped back. Red pulled out his gun and assessed him. The man looked scruffy with that beginning of a beard on his cheeks, with those awful jeans and that tasteless flannel shirt. Some women might think him handsome, though; manly. He had certainly managed to impress Lizzie.

That though made Red frown unhappily and he motioned with his gun to the sofa, "Hello Tom. Sit, please."

Keen sat soundlessly and gazed back at him steadily. "Who the hell are you?"

"My, my, you are so persistent. I admire that, really." Red chuckled and nodded at him with a small little smile. All he wanted to do was to shoot that pathetic asshole for even touching Red's Lizzie.

"Hey, you're the guy I met in Nebraska!" Tom exclaimed loudly and appeared utterly confused, those gray eyes so ridiculously wide.

"Ah, truly remarkable! But let's talk business, Tom, or how the hell you call yourself." Red's voice became deadly serious and he slid his amber sunglasses down. Years had passed and the man Red had once been was gone. He was no longer Raymond and he was no longer even the Red who had looked after an impudent teenager for a few days all those years ago. He rarely thought about the time, and when he did, the remains of Red's miserable heart ached. He had been a man back then, wretched and broken, but still a human who had felt genuine affection towards the girl and towards Sam.

That man might have believed that Tom Keen truly loved his wife – that this love was the reason why he had taken the passports and money and still stayed. However, Red knew better. He could easily recognize that Tom Keen was like Red in every possible way.

It was pointless to deny that Red was a monster. He was a murderer, a cheater, a kidnapper. He blackmailed people and smuggled everything and anything, he tortured his enemies or those who dared to cross him with glee. He had been numb for years and no matter how hard he had tried, there had been nothing, no feeling at all.

Except for rage.

He had felt all consuming rage since he found out that the Major had betrayed him, and it had been precisely that feeling which had pushed him over the edge. His presence had been and always would be a danger to Lizzie, but Red had been willing to risk it in order to protect her personally. He had needed to reassure himself of her safety, no longer trusting others. Red was well aware that he had crossed the last invisible line separating him from insanity, but he hadn't regretted it.

He had surrendered to the FBI and it had been an incredible feeling. He had been so sure that they would kill him on the spot, alas they hadn't, and they had been so nice as to bring Lizzie to him.

And Lizzie had been so nice as to bring him closer to Tom.

Red smiled at the man again, an ugly threatening thing. He understood why Tom so desperately held onto Lizzie, it was hard not to.

She was so beautiful, so strong, so brave. Since Red had seen her, he had started to feel something else slowly, too. It was not necessarily a healthy emotion – it had increased the rage tenfold and rendered him basically powerless, made him unbalanced in the worst possible way. Seeing her, talking to her – it was remarkable and Red was high from the simple fact that he could touch her again. Oh yes, Red understood Tom Keen well, they were both monsters and they both saw in Lizzie something they could not have themselves.

Lizzie's light burnt so brightly, and Red was nothing but a moth to her flame. With her, he felt alive. His self-imposed exile never made less sense, Red couldn't understand how he could have willingly left her, why. How could he have missed such a transformation?

She had changed so much, but so had he. The irony was that dear Lizzie hadn't even recognized him as the babysitter whom she had kissed so thoroughly one night. Not that Red took it personally, no. Babysitter Ray had been younger, muscular and had had a head full of thick blond hair. Raymond Reddington, she had met in the awful box had been just an old, slightly overweighed and balding man who had had a few changes done to his face over the years.

It was a good thing, though. Red didn't want her to know that, so he could not dwell on any possibility of repeating that kiss or any of the things they had done that night. It had been truly his most erotic experience ever, and he cherished it, well aware that there could never be anything like it happening again. He would not do that to Lizzie, just no. She was too precious to him to sully their connection like that.

Red was mesmerized and impressed by her ability to be so hard and so soft at the same time. In all those long months of working together, his respect towards her had only grown alongside his admiration, devotion, and love. Falling in love with Lizzie hadn't been hard – certainly not for Red and obviously not for Tom.

It took Red only one moment and when he tried to remember when exactly it had happened, the answer was simple. Red had protected and loved her from afar since she had been four, and he had fallen for her precisely at the moment when she had stabbed him with that pen.

Love of a monster, though, was a very dangerous thing, which was the reason why Tom Keen needed to go, now. He would not allow Tom to stay, to corrupt what Red so obsessively protected. Lizzie deserved a whole man, not damaged goods.

Observing the change in Keen's features was almost amusing. One moment, there was a confused school teacher looking like a kicked puppy, and then there was not. He relaxed in his seat and shrugged his broad shoulders.

"What business?" He asked and grinned, looking at the gun in Red's hand. "You gonna shoot me? That would upset Liz. You shoot me, and she finds out? It would be bad for whatever you need her for."

He dared to use Lizzie, the bastard. Red's cheek twitched.

"The only reason why I haven't done it yet is that it would be a real bother to clean all that blood from the sofa, and Lizzie is quite fond of it. I think you overestimated the connection you two have, Tom." Red waited a moment and then gleefully watched as the smugness quickly left Tom's face. "She doesn't trust you anymore. That box you took from me? She found it and being the inquisitive FBI agent that dear Lizzie is, she opened it."

"No, she didn't." The denial was just that – only a denial. Red could see it in his eyes, the truth. Tom Keen would go, Red would make sure that he would.

"Tell me, does she say where she goes, what she does, when she leaves each morning this… place? Where she spends her nights when she is conveniently late? Are you two… intimate?" Red nodded to himself when Tom clenched his fists. "Oh, you aren't anymore, right? I will enlighten you, then. She goes to me when she is upset, and you know what she does? Now that would surely interest you, but let's just say that she and I, we are rather close."

Red enjoyed the flare of rage on Keen's face. It was very satisfying.

"You son-of-a-bitch!"

"Careful there, Tommy, or I might shoot you after all. It would upset her, you are right." Red appeared thoughtful. "Not because she cares for you, you see, but because with you dead, she would never find out the truth about you and this little truth of ours? That's a lesson I need to teach her."

"So what do you want?" Tom took a deep breath and smiled tightly. "I won't leave, you can't make me."

"Oh, you see, your employer will find out about your failure, and then he will give you the order to hurt Lizzie. I can't allow that, and I have a feeling that you won't be comfortable with such an order… So you will leave or I will kill you." Red cleared his throat and smoothed his jacket, rising with a flourish. "You explain to her that she was your job and you will leave it at that. You won't mention me, you won't profess your love for her, and you won't see her ever again. Are we clear?"

"And if I tell her about our connection?"

Red stilled for a moment and then put his hat on and holstered his gun. When he looked at Tom, the younger man swallowed reflexively, the color leaving his face.

"Tom, you don't want to know the answer to your question. There isn't a hole deep enough where I can't find you, remember that. And that paint on the walls? It's ugly." Humming contently, Red turned his back to him and walked out of the front door. Tom Keen remained seated at the sofa for a long time, just looking around, thinking, thinking, his mind spinning in circles.

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I would gladly kill Tom Keen off, alas I need that guy for later. Two more chapters and we will be rid of him for some time :D Any questions? Comments? Observations? I'm all yours during the holidays :)


	5. Tom Keen 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

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 **Tom Keen 2**

"Liz, babe…" Tom said cautiously and smiled at her. He held a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands and was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, looking a little lost.

Liz could tell that something was bothering him, his glasses were askew and he didn't even seem to notice. She dropped her keys on the table, observing him briefly, and then she shed her coat. Their dog was nowhere to be seen and this put her at the edge.

Wary of Tom, she edged closer and took one glass from him and grinned.

"What's up? Where's Hudson?"

"We need to talk."

She didn't know what had warned her; a moment before Tom made his move, she threw the glass into his face and stepped back, aiming at his throat. He managed to grab her hands, though, before she reached for her gun and butted her.

The next thing Liz knew, she was bound to a chair in their dining room, and Tom was casually leaning against the doorframe with a backpack at his feet and her gun in his hands.

"I hoped we could avoid this, but you were always so damn perceptive, Liz."

"What are you doing? Why are you doing it? Tom! Tom, tell me. Tom!" Liz forcefully repeated the name again and again and it did have its effect. "Where is our dog, Tom? Tom?"

The man jerked and hissed, "Stop calling me that, it's like rubbing salt in the wound, Liz!" Then he calmed himself and added softly, "Please, stop it."

They stared at each other for a long time. Liz was equal parts angry and scared and she tried to think of a way out. Insanely enough, the first person she thought of at that moment wasn't her partner, not even her boss or not even the police. It was Red. Red would surely help without asking stupid questions such as 'Why did your husband tie you to a chair, Liz?'

Her heart was beating rapidly and her breath hitched when Tom moved closer, without the gun. Then her fear vanished when she caught the look on his face.

He was on the verge of tears and she had never seen her fake husband cry. Something was breaking inside of him and Liz knew, she just knew in that terribly long second, that a part of what they had shared hadn't been a lie. He was hurting and she could see that his pain was almost as intense as hers had been when she had stopped trusting him.

"Hudson was hit by a car this morning. I'm sorry." He knelt down in front of her and reached out with his right hand, gently touching the bruise on the side of her face. She didn't jerk away, gazing at him disbelievingly. She sure as hell didn't believe him.

"You found the passports, the money, the gun." He wasn't asking and continued to stroke her cheek. "Yeah, they are mine, and I'm going to use them and leave, but I own you an explanation first."

"You bet you do." Now, she did move away from his touch and Tom sat back on his heels, content to sit at her feet. Their eyes were at the same level. He swallowed while they looked at each other.

"You were my job. I was to protect you and to monitor you. I wasn't supposed to marry you." Slowly, by its own accord, Tom's hand found its way to hers and he squeezed her fingers. "But I did and certain people were not pleased when they found out."

His face was so open, so honest. He didn't look like Tom, though; there was something sharper in his eyes, something that differentiated a normal man from someone capable of killing. Tom was a killer and the revelation didn't make Liz uncomfortable. They had both taken lives, for a different reason, though. In this, they understood each other.

"Reddington." Liz swallowed. When she said his name, her phone inside of her pocket started vibrating. Tom reached for it and grimly smiled, showing her the caller ID. Nick's Pizza.

"Yeah. Don't trust him, babe." H squeezed her fingers once again, declining the call, and looked at her with breathtaking urgency. "He is not a good man, there are reasons why he has so many enemies and some of them, my boss included, won't stop until he is dead and until everyone who is close to him is dead. Don't get into that situation, don't trust him. There are things…"

Lizzie squeezed his fingers back, suddenly understanding what she heard in his voice. Tom was _terrified_ and she could not imagine him being afraid. Even when he had been bound with Zamani driving a knife into his guts, her husband hadn't shown any fear. "You are afraid of him."

"I'm afraid what will happen to you because of that man, what he will do to you. He will devour you whole if you let your guard down."

"Says the running imposter I married." She retorted angrily. Somehow, Tom insulting Red made her angry at both of them. At Red because he was right, and at Tom because he was right, too, and deep down Liz had the same feeling. Reddington was too much to handle. Then again, Tom was a liar, and Red had never lied to her—at least directly.

"Liz!" He growled and painfully clutched at her hand. "With my cover blown, I put you at risk. I am leaving because that's the only way I can protect you from myself! They would make me… They would order me to…" He choked and bowed his head.

The weight of his words made her breathless. They would make him kill her if he stayed.

He stood up after a moment and marched to the door, flinging the backpack over his shoulder. Her phone vibrated again and Tom dropped it to the floor angrily.

"I wish I could take you with me, but it's not safe. By telling you all of this, I betrayed my boss and we both know how Reddington reacts when someone crosses him. It would be a miracle if I last the next couple of months. You are in danger because of your connection to Reddington and I hate to admit it, but right now, he is your best chance at safety."

Tom fished out a key and put it in a teacup which he put into the back of the cupboard. "The key opens a box in a bank; you know which one, right? There you find something about who Reddington really is – and a way of contacting me if I'm still around and you ever need me."

He then moved back to her and leaning down, he kissed her forehead. "I need you to know that I love you, Liz, if it means anything to you. With you, I felt like I didn't have to pretend anymore. What we had, our life, it was the closest I've ever had to a real home and family. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. You weren't just a job."

Straightening, Tom smiled painfully down at her and she noticed that there was moisture in his eyes now. For a moment, he just watched her and then he turned to leave abruptly.

Liz called after him with a trembling voice, "Wait, what's your real name?"

He stopped and without turning answered, "Jacob. My real name is Jacob. Be safe, babe."

She remained bound to the chair, silent tears falling down her cheeks. The man she had married was gone; there was no Tom Keen… But the man who had just walked out of the door? This stranger Jacob? He painfully reminded her of the husband she had never had and Liz cried for the loss of something they had shared, something fragile and beautiful and painfully real.

At the floor, her phone vibrated again and again and again, and then it stopped the battery flat.

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Wow. I really hate that guy. Sorry for the long wait but I am back.


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